


A Curse Between Us

by define_serenity



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Angst, Brother-Sister Relationships, Brotherhood, F/M, Gen, Romance, s03e03 The End of the Affair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-11
Updated: 2011-09-11
Packaged: 2017-11-16 15:19:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/define_serenity/pseuds/define_serenity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All good things must come to an end. During Stefan's trip down memory lane, Klaus allows himself to remember Sofia for the first time in nearly ninety years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Curse Between Us

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from _What Have I Done_ by Within Temptation.
> 
> Special thanks to my beta **grapesofwraith**.

“Welcome back to Chicago, Stefan,” he says as he climbs out of the car. Just like Stefan, he hasn’t been back here since the 1920s. It smells different now, there’s a putrid and vile undercurrent, nothing like it used to be. Back then the city was vibrant with beauty, filled with possibilities for all who came here. Including him.

“What are we doing here?”

That’s all there is with Stefan, this sea of questions riddled with doubt; Stefan’s still hung up on what he did to Elena, but not for long. Once he’s through with Stefan, once he shows Stefan what he’s been missing all these years, he won’t want to go back to Mystic Falls.

“I know how much you loved it here,” he says, and opens one of the doors of the warehouse, revealing a starlit sky over a city filled with memories. He’s never been back here because he had no need to remember Sofia, but now that he’s here, now that the necessity for him to be here has outweighed his reluctance to dwell on this particular part of his past, he’ll open himself up to it. After all, Sofia’s as much part of this story as Stefan. “Bringing back memories of the good old Ripper days.”

“Blacked out most of them,” Stefan says.

There’s that tone again, there’s no respect, not unlike the first time they met. All of that will soon change, he’ll make sure Stefan remembers the bond they forged here once his business with Gloria is concluded.

“Lot of blood, lot of partying,” Stefan continues. “The details are all a blur.”

“Well, that is a crying shame,” he says, a tinge of melancholy rising alongside the memories. He wonders what it would be like, to have this huge gap in his memory, to not remember Stefan, to not remember Sofia. He wonders if he’d be any different. He wishes he hadn’t compelled Stefan to forget, but circumstances had forced him to. He could never have predicted the Salvatore brothers would become such important players in his plan.

He smiles to himself. “The details are what makes it legend.”

 

#

 

The details of the shadows, faint light seeping through the embroidered curtains, a delicately woven pattern now cast down on her silky white skin. Her body’s veiled in tasteful darkness, but he sees everything, the trio of freckles below her left breast, the soft curve her stomach makes just south of her bellybutton.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, watching in fascination as she turns in the bed, settling on her stomach, head propped up on one arm.

“Getting sentimental, are we?” she says, lips sliding into that delicious smile he imagines prides every man that manages to coax it from her. Something tells him that despite her beauty and youthful lust not many men have earned that particular smile. He shouldn’t feel it, he considers any sentimentality to be weakness to a vampire – something he knows he shares with Sofia – but he knows there’s the same pride now reflected in the place he thinks his heart is.

“There’s nothing sentimental about stating facts,” he answers, brushing a loose strand of her hair out of the way. She chuckles lightly, shivering beneath his fingertips, a wake of goosebumps down her spine, even though the room is comfortably warm.

She’s different with him, he noticed that the first moment they’d left Stefan and Rebekah to their trifles, things he believes Sofia considers as tedious as he does. She’s still devious and cunning, but where Stefan lives only on his instincts and does what his hunger dictates, Sofia demonstrates a remarkable level of control. Stefan’s a child compared to her, even though she downplays her maturity in his presence. She shouldn’t do that.

“Do you love Rebekah?” Sofia asks in the semi-interested register they’ve adopted.

“She’s my sister,” he answers, settling the tip of his index finger at the small of her back. “I care for her a great deal.” He draws his nose over her smooth skin, tongue trailing back up her spine. He swears he can almost hear her purr. “Why?” he asks, planting a kiss between her shoulder blades, his body hovering over hers. “Do you not love your brothers?”

Sofia turns, completely naked beneath him. “Of course I do,” she says. “With all my heart.”

He wonders exactly how big her heart would be were she in his shoes; he got rid of most his siblings, but they’d never be gone forever. “But what you are really asking is if I’m capable of loving someone blindly.”

Sofia stares up at him, unrelenting, unashamed, no pretence or scruples between them. He thinks that if he stares into her eyes long enough he could find the wisdom of the ages.

He averts his eyes and lies down next to her, staring up at the ceiling. “If you’ve lived as long as I have, you learn the true values in life. Love isn’t one of them.”

“So,” Sofia says, settling on her side. “Not incapable, just unwilling.”

He turns his head to look at her. She really is beautiful. “Not unlike yourself.”

Now it’s Sofia who averts her eyes. She turns and sits up, her back turned to him. He doesn’t understand where it comes from, this profound sadness within her. Why does she not rejoice in this life when her previous one was one of weakness and dependency?

It only strikes him then.

She’s never known love.

“I saw what love did to my brothers,” Sofia says. “It destroyed them. I decided long ago I’d never make that mistake.”

Always the strong one, a quality she must have transferred from her human life, otherwise it wouldn’t be so pronounced in this one. But if she’s never known love, how can she know it would destroy her? How is she so certain she’d let anyone break her heart? It’s then that he realizes that the answer lies in the ‘unwilling’ part – it became a trait of his by necessity, a decision to protect his heart above all else. Hers was a conscious choice to keep her heart out of sight, so that people wouldn’t find it at all.

She’s made herself appear heartless, so that no one ever dared to try and break it.

 

#

 

“Chicago was magical,” he says, more for his own benefit than Stefan’s at this point. He’d come here only to appease Rebekah, she’d fallen in love with the flapper fashion and lifestyle and everything else the Roaring Twenties would prove to be, and there were little indulgences he denied his sister. When it came to his own pleasure, well, he had his transgressions, bloody and often surprisingly delicious, but it was Rebekah who had the real adventures: drinking, dancing, hunting, falling in love. His sister did nothing half-speed.

He got bored most nights at exactly the same speed. Until he met Stefan and Sofia.

“Yeah, I’ll take your word for it,” Stefan says. “Like I said, I don’t remember much of it.”

He sighs. “Down to business then.”

There was a time Stefan had great respect for him, at first because it made Sofia happy (and there were few indulgences Stefan didn’t _allow_ _her_ ), but once they got to know each other they formed a bond not unlike the one brothers shared.

He closes the door to the warehouse.

“Why am I still with you?” Stefan asks, following behind him. “We had our fun, your hybrids failed.”

It stings just to hear it again.

“I mean, don’t you wanna move on?”

He snickers, but doesn’t let Stefan see it. _Move on_ , he thinks, when breaking his curse was all he’d been working towards for a thousand years. He can’t just move on. The sacrifice should have fixed him but all it did was send him in a tailspin of more hurt. Maybe coming back here will not only give him the answers he needs, but strengthen his resolve.

He turns and faces Stefan. “We’re going to see my favourite witch,” he says. “If anyone can help us with our hybrid problem, it’s her.”

 

#

 

“A hybrid?” Sofia’s eyes go wide when he spins her his tale.

It’s not surprising, most vampires treat his history with either disbelief or horror. Either they don’t believe in the notion of an Original to begin with, or they don’t believe in werewolves, or the thought of the _Original_ vampires makes them run for the hills. Not Stefan, he’s fearless, a real Ripper. And Sofia, though not fearless, sees something in him not many have before. “You mean to say you’re a vampire _and_ a werewolf?”

She sits close to him at the bar, her eyes not releasing his. It’s crowded, as it is most nights, and Rebekah and Stefan had disappeared into the night not too long ago.

“The werewolf side is dormant,” he says. “I’m cursed.”

Sofia giggles.

“What’s so funny?”

She shakes her head and looks at him. “Nothing,” she says, chin resting in the palm of her hand, and she bites down on her bottom lip. “It’s just—” She scoots closer to him, so close he can almost taste her, her fingers tiptoeing up his hand, which lays flat on top of the bar. “You intrigue me, Nik.”

He smiles to himself, even though Sofia’s proximity leaves him little privacy. She’s a riddle to him, one he’d very much like to solve. But how long would that take? What dark secrets would that reveal? He might not like what he finds. “Please, sweet Sofia,” he says. “I would love to hear what it is that intrigues you so much.”

“You, Nik?” Sofia asks. “You do not love.”

“I don’t?” he asks, because he’s gotten used to her roundabout way of getting to the truth of the matter. When he met her he’d believed her to be a thrill seeker not unlike her brother, but the more of these intimate moments they shared, these conversations, the more he’s come to understand her as a creature completely independent of her brother, rational, and in control.

“You search for it, maybe,” Sofia answers. “But what you want more than anything is kinship. Feel like you belong.”

He wonders if it’s her intention to hurt him, or get him to react to how painfully true her statement is. Stefan doesn’t know, and Rebekah has never realized, but what he hates more than anything is being alone. “And what has made you so knowledgeable on the topic?” he asks, his own roundabout way of avoiding a straight answer. “Something tells me belonging has never been a particular problem of yours.”

Sofia casts down her eyes. “I wasn’t always a vampire,” she says, speaking around a heavy-hearted concession. “I was weak as a human.” She looks back up at him, defiant now, because she’s never apologized for anything and he doubts she’s about to start now. “I needed help getting out of bed, getting dressed. I couldn’t even feed myself.”

It hurts her to tell him this, he can tell, she’s fighting back tears even though she’s mastered a disguise for them. That’s different from her brother: Stefan refuses to feel anything, Sofia feels everything but chooses what emotions to show. “And look at you now,” he says, “Beautiful. Strong. Self-reliant.” He can’t tell if any of his words soothe her hurt. “How far you’ve come.”

Sofia smiles. “Yet you’re the one feeling sorry for yourself,” she says, and she’s not wrong. He chuckles, studying his drink evasively. Her hand travels up his arm. “You’ve had this life for so long,” she says, moving even closer. He _can_ taste her now, her breath on his lips. “Why do you choose to only see the downsides?”

“I am the only one of my kind,” he answers, but doesn’t move an inch. “I’m cursed.” But upon hearing that word Sofia giggles again. “I’m glad that amuses you.”

“Not an easy feat, might I add.”

He can’t bring himself to meet her eye again.

“Are you blind as well as humourless? Look at where we are. We’re on top of the world, Nik.” She leans up against him, her breath hot against his ear when she whispers, “Don’t tell me the rush of fresh blood doesn’t make you feel alive?”

“What makes you think it does?” he asks, teasing now.

Sofia chuckles. Perhaps she sees through his deceit. “Because you’re still a vampire too.” ~~~~

#

 

“Looks familiar, doesn’t it?” he says when they enter Gloria’s bar.

“Can’t believe this place is still here,” Stefan says.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Gloria’s voice sounds from across the room, the heels of her boots tapping rhythmically on the floorboards.

“So, a hybrid walks into a bar,” he says. “Says the barmaid—”

“Stop,” Gloria commands, and he smiles to himself. There are only a few people in this world he allows to talk to him like that. But Gloria’s unique skillset had endeared her to him decades ago. “You may be invincible but that doesn’t make you funny.”

 

#

 

Sofia throws her head back and laughs so loud he’s surprised not everyone in the place turns to look at her. For some reason he revels in it, more than he does when he sees it in Rebekah. But then Rebekah’s his little sister. Sofia’s something else entirely.

She’s drunk now, on champagne _and_ blood, much like Rebekah.

Stefan and him make their way over to their sisters. “And what are we talking about?” Stefan asks, sitting down across from Sofia and Rebekah right alongside him.

“Nothing.” Rebekah smiles wide. “Just exchanging stories.”

“Is that so?” he asks. Rebekah knows he doesn’t like it when she reveals their secrets to outsiders. He’s aware he’s told Sofia his fair share of details about his curse and how to undo it, but that’s as far as it went. How much has Rebekah told Sofia? How much has Sofia _asked_ of Rebekah? Sofia’s smart for her age, she could make connections others might not.

“Do not worry, brother,” Rebekah says. “All your secrets are safe.”

“Stefan’s on the other hand—” Sofia adds, and winks at Rebekah.

Stefan frowns, but seems more amused by this turn of events. “What?” he asks, growing more uncertain of himself once he sees Sofia and Rebekah exchanging conspiratorial smiles. And then they both break out in laughter, drunk, ecstatic.

“Don’t let it get to you, Stefan,” he says, placing a comforting hand on Stefan’s shoulder. “Things like these are inevitable.” But he knows it’s only become inevitable because he chose to involve himself with Sofia. Was that a mistake?

“Now, boys, if you’ll excuse us,” Rebekah says while Sofia and her get up. “It’s girls only tonight,” she smiles down at Stefan, and presses a kiss to his lips, before taking Sofia by the hand and disappearing off into the night. He doesn’t know why, but there’s a sudden worry nagging at him.

 

#

 

“Stefan, why don’t you go and fix us up a little something from behind the bar?” he asks, his eyes trained close on Gloria. There’s a caution in her composure, not unlike there is in most of the witches he employs. But there’s something more now. It’s almost as if she knew he was coming, and last time he checked Gloria was no psychic.

“Yeah, sure thing,” Stefan says, and leaves them to their business, even though something tells him Stefan will be listening in on their conversation.

“You look ravishing, by the way,” he says, and sits down across from Gloria.

“ _Don’t_ ,” she says. “I know why you’re here. A hybrid out to make more hybrids. Kinda news travels.”

 _Travels_? he wonders, where could Gloria have picked up that news? He knows he hasn’t been careful about where he leaves bodies, but he’s certain he hasn’t left a great many witnesses. “So what am I doing wrong?” he asks. “I broke the curse.”

“Obviously you did something wrong.”

He sighs; he didn’t come here so Gloria could point out his mistakes, he’s here for answers.

“Look, every spell has a loophole,” Gloria continues, “but a curse that old, we’d need to contact the witch that created it.”

It cuts through him like a razorblade. Everything to do with his curse comes back to her. “Well, that would be the original witch,” he says, and sees his mother’s face flash vividly in front of his eyes. “She’s very dead.”

“Bring me Rebekah,” Gloria says. He laughs to himself. Of course, because after everything he’s already accomplished there are still hoops he has to jump through to get what he really wants. Waking up Rebekah won’t be difficult. Handling Rebekah once she wakes up, well, that’s a different story. “She has what I need. Bring her to me.”

“What is this?” Stefan suddenly calls from across the room.

He smiles to himself. _Finally_ , he thinks, _now_ _we’re getting somewhere_.

“I told you, Stefan.” He gets up from his chair and walks the distance to Stefan. “Chicago is a magical place.”

“But this is me,” Stefan says, sheer panic in his eyes, and he holds up the picture he just ripped from the wall. A picture of himself and Stefan, best friends, a long time ago. “With you.”

 

#

 

He hasn’t felt this in such a long time, the love between brothers, the camaraderie, just as he once shared with Elijah and Henrik. What he wouldn’t give to have that again, that _kinship_ as Sofia had described it, but he knows that after everything, after all these years, it’ll never be the same. And he can’t stay in Chicago forever.

“Hey, buddy,” Stefan calls out to the club photographer. “Take a picture of my brother and me.”

He and Stefan turn and smile for the camera, breaking out in laughter right after the flash.

“Your brother?” Sofia approaches them, probably having overheard at least part of their conversation. “Stefan, I’m _shocked_.”

Stefan pulls Sofia closer to him, kissing her temple. “Do you want on the picture too?”

Sofia hugs Stefan around the waist. “I’m bored.”

“That must be remedied immediately,” Stefan says, and looks at him. “Nik?” Stefan asks, making sure that leaving him now won’t put a damper on his fun.

“By all means,” he says, motioning his consent to both his friends. Who’s he to stand in the way of Sofia’s fun? And who’s he to keep Stefan from making his sister happy?

Sofia giggles and skips over to him. “Don’t think this gets you out of a dance,” she says, her green eyes set alight with mischief. Before he knows what’s happening she presses a kiss to his lips – maybe she thinks she can get away with it because he’s drunk, and that’s really the only reason he lets her. He’s grown fond of her, but he’s not in love.

Sofia’s young, in time she’ll learn how absurd it is to even try to will herself into his heart.

 

#

 

After they leave the bar Stefan’s questions don’t end. He can’t blame him, after all his memories are locked away behind his compulsion so this must come as quite a shock. “This doesn’t make any sense,” Stefan says. “Why don’t I remember you?”

“You said yourself that time had a lot of dark holes,” he answers, knowing there are far more gaps in Stefan’s memory than he put there because of his older ripper lifestyle.

“No, if you knew me, then why haven’t you said anything?”

Another question, another _demand_.

“I’m a little busy right now,” he answers. He can’t think about Stefan’s problems right now, he has quite a few of his own he needs to fix first. Remembering the good old days is great fun, but not that important compared to what he came here to do.

But when Stefan grabs him by the arm he knows he won’t take silence for an answer. “What the hell is going on?” he asks. He thinks Stefan should praise himself lucky he’s somewhat in his good graces. “Answer me,” Stefan commands.

He removes Stefan’s hand from his arm. “Let’s just say we didn’t get off to a brilliant start,” he says. “To be honest, I hated you.”

 

#

 

Some nights he grows so bored he can’t even be bothered to go out for a bite, but instead just wants to go back to the hotel room he’d booked upon arriving in Chicago. Rebekah drags him here most nights and he follows her because he can’t stand the thought of not knowing where she is at any given time. It’s too risky not to know.

When he finds Rebekah sharing a young woman with who he assumes is Stefan Salvatore, he can only think one thing: to get out of there before anyone sees them. Rebekah should know better than to do this in public, even with her compulsion it’s too risky. “It’s late, Rebekah,” he says, dragging his sister away from her helpless victim. “We’re leaving.”

“Get off me!” Rebekah breaks free from his hold, retreating back towards Stefan.

“Who is this guy?” Stefan asks.

“Stefan, don’t,” Rebekah says, holding him back. “He’ll kill you. Nik’s a lot stronger than he looks.”

“So this is the famous Stefan Salvatore I’ve been hearing so much about,” he says, regarding the younger man with a feeling not unlike disdain. “You’re right, he does have funny hair,” he jokes, but that sentiment gives way for an all too familiar one. “I’m bored, I wanna go.”

“Then go without me, I’m not your girlfriend,” Rebekah sneers.

“No, you’re my sister.” He takes her by the arm again, forcefully pulling her towards him. “Which means you have to do as I say.”

 

#

 

“Your sister,” Stefan says. “So I knew another Original vampire.”

“If you can’t handle it then don’t ask,” he says. They’re back at the warehouse; the guards have already readied Rebekah’s coffin. He opens the lid, and stares down at his little sister, dead inside her resting place these past ninety years. He knows he did what he had to do to keep them moving, but Rebekah will never see it that way.

His little sister, who couldn’t help falling in love, who was ready to stop running to spend whatever time she deemed necessary with Stefan. There’s only a small part of him that regrets what he did to her.

Stefan joins him at his side. “I don’t recognize her,” he says.

“Don’t tell _her_ that. Rebekah’s temper’s worse than mine.” He pulls the dagger out of Rebekah’s chest. “Time to wake up, little sister.”

He turns and looks at Stefan. “Would this be a good time to mention your sister and I got off to a much better start?” he asks, a smile creeping to the corner of his mouth beyond his control. He never thought this would be so much fun, unravelling the mystery of Stefan’s memories, just like he once hoped to unravel Sofia in many more ways.

Stefan frowns. “Sofia?” he asks. He’s surprised to hear Stefan say her name at all; in the three months they’ve spent together Stefan hasn’t mentioned her once. Maybe he’ll ask him later why that is. “What does she have to do with this?”

“I was about ready to rip your throat out that night,” he answers. “ Until she stepped in.”

 

#

 

“Boys, please,” a young woman inserts herself between him and his sister’s latest conquest. “You’re making a scene,” she says, putting a hand on Stefan’s chest, but she turns her head to look at him. “Why don’t we have a nice quiet sit-down and have one last drink?”

He looks her up and down, letting his eyes linger longer than needed. “And who might you be, love?” he asks.

She smiles wide. “Most surely not your love,” she answers. Her hair’s styled not unlike Rebekah’s, except it’s the same brown as Stefan’s, her eyes a sloppy green, and her dress the most exquisitely tailored frock he’s seen since his own sister’s collection of them. Stefan Salvatore has money.

The young Mr Salvatore wraps his arms around the stunning brunette from behind, and she leans back against him. He can’t help but wonder if Rebekah has already made her acquaintance. “This is my baby sister Sofia,” Stefan says. “Sis, this is Nik and Rebekah.”

“Original vampires,” Sofia Salvatore says, a glint of excitement in her eyes. “It’s an honour.”

Something in him mellows instantly, young Sofia’s voice holds such reverie that he forgets all about Stefan. “See, Rebekah,” he says, and takes a step closer to Sofia. “Respect. That’s all I ask.”

Sofia smiles and bites down on her lip when he takes her hand and kisses it.

 

#

 

“Sweet Sofia,” he says, relishing in his memories of her. “There’s a girl who knew how to leave an impression.”

Stefan frowns to himself, clearly struggling with this fresh piece of information. He was always so protective of Sofia, as any brother would be. If only Stefan knew the things he’d done to her when he left Sofia alone with him. “She never—” Stefan shakes his head, “She never said anything.”

He smiles. “I wonder why that is.” He doesn’t mean it the way he makes it sound, because it doesn’t make much sense. Sofia never owed him anything.

“So now you’re— _what_?” Stefan shrugs, trying to retain what composure he has left. “You’re saying you know my sister better than I do?”

“When it comes to this particular part of your past?” He thinks it through longer than he needs to; there’s probably a whole lot he knows about Sofia that Stefan never even considered. The way she feels about Katerina, the way she feels about Damon and even Stefan. The way she relishes in this life unlike either of her brothers.

“I do, yes,” he adds.

 

#

 

“So, Stefan, enlighten me,” he says, lounging back in his seat. “What makes you worthy of an Original like my sister? She’s pure vampire and you’re no more than a diluted bloodline.” He’s not a big fan of Stefan Salvatore, but the way Rebekah looks at him, the way he makes her smile—it has earned him the benefit of the doubt.

“Don’t listen to him, Stefan.” Rebekah scowls at him. “Nik’s an elitist.”

“Sofia?” He looks at the younger Salvatore. If she can’t sell him on her own brother, then what place does Stefan have with Rebekah?

Sofia glances at her brother, and the two of them share a look only siblings would understand. “My brother, dear Nik, is an artist,” she answers, which sends both her and Stefan in a laughing fit. There’s something fake about it, about her laughter, but judging by everyone else’s reaction Rebekah and Stefan don’t notice.

“Don’t let her fool you.” Stefan chuckles. “She’s quite cunning herself. She’s had more practice.”

“You’re older,” he says, and while Rebekah and Stefan turn their attention to each other again, Sofia stops laughing. He doesn’t usually display his abilities in front of other vampires, but he can see Sofia’s fascination with him. It’s in the way she keeps herself, her body turned to him, her eyes finding his every few minutes, her lips parting even when she’s not speaking.

“I turned at sixteen, Stefan at seventeen,” Sofia says. “But we’re twins.”

“A vampire family too.” He smiles. “Rebekah tells me you have another brother.”

“Damon,” Sofia answers, but casts down her eyes. “He’s around.” She shrugs. “When it’s convenient.” When she looks back up at him there’s something defiant about it, as if saying she doesn’t need whatever pity he might be feeling, or consider feeling. So he doesn’t pity her, nor is he sad about her situation, caught between two brothers he knows aren’t on speaking terms.

“You all turned?” Klaus asks.

Sofia chuckles and scoots closer to him. “Our father was an elitist too,” she says, and sounds so much older than she pretends to be. “He killed my brothers when he found out they were vampire sympathizers.”

“The fool,” Stefan interjects. “Too blind to see his little girl had already been turned.”

Sofia turns her head to look at her brother, but doesn’t move away from him. “I can’t help I was his favourite,” she teases.

“And who can blame him?” he says, smiling wide once Sofia turns to look at him again. It’s not a lie, she’s an exquisite creature; the way she looks, the way she holds herself – someone once upon a time taught her well, and it can’t have been Stefan. A vampire, then, much older than herself.

 

#

 

“Why should I believe any of this?” Stefan follows closely behind him while he makes his way back to his human guard.

“ _When she wakes up tell her to meet us at Gloria’s bar_ ,” he compels the helpless human, “ _then volunteer your carotid artery and let her feed until you die_ ,” he commands, and continues on his way.

“Where’re we going?” Stefan asks.

“You think I’m lying, Stefan. You and I knew each other.” He almost divulges how intimately he knew Sofia, but refrains from doing so. The thrill is in the chase, never in the capture. “You trusted me with one of your secrets, and now I’m gonna prove it to you.”

“How?”

“We’re going to your old apartment.”

 

#

 

“Shh-hh-hh,” her index finger lies loosely against her lips when she silences him, alternated only with her laughter. “You’ll wake up all the neighbours,” she laughs, an arm hooked in his as they both sway against each other. They’re both a little tipsy, but it isn’t anything they haven’t been before.

“You don’t stay with your brother?” he asks.

“Stefan has an apartment downtown,” Sofia answers, unlocking the door to her own flat. “Right next to an all-girls boarding school.”

He laughs. Of course.

“But just like Stefan,” she adds, opening the door, “I like my privacy.”

They enter a single room, so much smaller than he imagined it would be, but it’s cosy rather than tiny. The apartment is lavishly decorated in a baroque style, deep reds bathing the room in warmth. “Welcome to my humble abode,” Sofia says. “How about another drink?”

He’s behind her at incredible speed, but Sofia doesn’t startle, even though her heartbeat speeds up. “How about—” His lips are at her neck, hovering over her skin. He caresses his fingertips up her spine; her dress so low-cut at the back it’s almost completely naked. “—something else?”

Sofia turns, and takes a step away from him. “But Nik, what about my virtue?” she asks, chest heaving deeper.

He laughs. “I think we’re past that.” He takes a step closer, Sofia another step back.

“Well, what about my brother?” She smiles, biting down on her bottom lip. She loves this game they play far too much, he thinks, but then if she didn’t he wouldn’t be nearly as fascinated with her.

Her back hits the bedpost behind her. He closes the distance between their bodies in one smooth move forward. “I think—” he says, lips a hair’s breadth away from hers, his body pulsing with want. They’ve played this game for long enough now. He wants her almost as badly as she wants him; she’s made no secret of it. “I can handle your brother.”

Sofia smiles wide, but waits for him to make the first move. Patience is such a beautiful virtue in a vampire. When he kisses her it’s deep and greedy, one hand around her throat while the other hikes up the skirt of her dress. He lifts up her leg and drapes it across his waist, pushing his groin up against hers. Sofia moans in his mouth.

They do wake up the neighbours. All of them.

 

#

 

Stefan had taken him to his apartment the first night Rebekah and Sofia had decided they needed some girls-only fun. It was here that Stefan had shared his secrets, one of them anyway, the names written in black ink on the closet wall.

“Why’d you bring me here?” Stefan asks.

“Your friend, Liam Grant, the one who drank his wife’s blood,” he starts, reminding Stefan he caught quite a few of his tricks in the time they spent together. “I never could figure out why you wanted his name. And then you told me your little secret.” He looks at Stefan. “It was all part of your special little ritual.”

Stefan connects the dots before the words are out of his mouth. “To write it down.”

“And relive the kill. Over and over again.” He walks over to the closet and opens it, housing so many of Stefan’s transgressions, and looks at him. “You believe me now?” he asks. But the confusion doesn’t leave his companion’s eyes, not even when Stefan pushes past him. He takes a few steps back, leaving Stefan whatever privacy he can, allowing Stefan to realize just how big a secret it was that he had shared. Stefan won’t be able to ignore this, the truth in his words.

Rebekah and him stayed in a local hotel themselves, mostly because they never remained in one place for too long, but Sofia and Stefan, after having lived in Chicago for several years, they preferred the anonymity of separate apartments. Sofia’s was even smaller than Stefan’s, with the bathtub in a corner of the single room flat.

 

#

 

The water spills over the side of the bathtub when Sofia reaches for her champagne glass on the floor. “The doppelganger,” she muses, settling back against his chest, her skin silky smooth and wet against his own. “Sounds like something Sigmund Freud invented.”

He knows it’s her attempt at distracting him from this new topic he’s broached, but it misses its effect. He can’t help it, even after all these years his anger flares inside him like a flame when he thinks about Katerina. “I found her once,” he says, lost in thought. “But I was betrayed.”

“Oh, it’s a she,” Sofia continues to joke. “Of course it is.” He chuckles nonetheless, the water sloshing around them. Sofia knows how to coax upside down reactions from him too. “And you’ve been looking for another way since?” Sofia asks, settling her head back on his shoulder.

“The Petrova line died out,” he says, lips against her temple. “Katerina had no children.” A shiver runs up Sofia’s spine so violently he can feel it himself. “What’s the matter?” he asks, his hands on her shoulders when she sits up in the bath.

Sofia falls silent.

He can tell there’s something she’s not sharing, or not willing to share. He sits up behind her, and kisses her shoulder. “I think we need more hot water.”

Sofia reaches for the tap and turns it, warm water flowing from it.

He doesn’t have to know her secrets, she doesn’t owe him any.

 

#

 

He smiles. Of course he knows now what caused Sofia’s hesitation; she knew who Katerina was, because it was Katerina who turned her, the same woman who broke up her family. He wonders why she never told him. Maybe part of her felt like she owed Katerina.

Stefan’s voice shakes him from his memories. “Look what I found,” he says. He turns and walks over, Stefan holding out a bottle of scotch for him. “1918. Single malt.”

“My favorite,” he says. “Let’s go and find someone to pair it with.”

 

#

 

When Rebekah joins him at the bar Sofia’s still on the dance floor with Stefan. “She’s a peach, isn’t she?” Rebekah asks. He smiles, still looking at Sofia, twirling around, her laughter filling the entire room. “Do you love her?”

He looks at his sister and wonders if she asks because Sofia has sparked a hint of jealousy in her. It wouldn’t be the first time. But when he doesn’t immediately answer he realizes it’s a serious question from sister to brother, one filled with genuine curiosity and perhaps a little concern. “You know me better than that, little sister.”

“Yes, I know.” Rebekah sighs. “Love is a vampire’s greatest weakness.” She recites his own words back to him, but he still holds true to them. Right now Rebekah is his greatest weakness. He won’t allow Sofia to become one as well. “We do not feel, and we do not care.” But when she says ‘we’ he knows all too well she just means him. Rebekah never had any problems feeling.

“Exactly.” He’s not incapable, just unwilling, and something tells him that’s a skill Sofia has mastered better than him. There’s a reason, even he has his reasons, someone in their past that showed them what disastrous consequences love can have for a vampire. For Sofia, he reckons it’s this mystery woman that turned her brothers. The same vampire that turned her.

“’Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all,” Rebekah says, and leaves him alone at the bar. He thinks she should know better than recite some Tennyson and expect him to learn his lessons. But perhaps it’s her own justification for her softer spots.

 

#

 

“Where’s Rebekah?” Gloria asks when she places two beers on the bar for them.

“She’ll be here,” he answers. “I can’t just conjure her on demand.” He looks at Stefan, who has turned into his old broody self. “What’s with you? I thought Chicago was your playground?”

Stefan scoffs. “So this is why you asked me to be your wingman?” he asks, his tone derisive again. “Because you liked the way I tortured innocent people?”

“Well, that’s certainly half of it.”

“What’s the other half?”

He refrains from saying _Sofia_ just to antagonize Stefan, and part of it would be too close to an actual truth. Stefan was someone he initially allowed in his life because Rebekah demanded it, but Sofia definitely made it easier for him to do so. She was his peace offering. But somehow Stefan had quickly become more important to him than Sofia.

“The other half, Stefan,” he says, “is that you used to want to be my wingman.”

 

#

 

“She adores you, you know,” Stefan says. He looks up to meet his eye. “My sister,” Stefan adds.

He glances across the room, where he sees Sofia leave the bar with what’s undoubtedly an unwitting victim. “But?” he asks.

Stefan takes a breath and studies the shot glass in his hand. “I’m not sure she’s capable of loving someone,” Stefan answers. He wonders if Stefan knows Sofia at all. “She never has.”

He can tell it makes him sad. If he were in Stefan’s shoes he doubts he’d feel the same. This way she’s safe, acting heartless is the perfect defense against any sort of weakness.

“I want more than anything for her to be happy.”

It’s curious to him how much of Stefan’s humanity shines true whenever Sofia’s involved. He imagines it isn’t much different when he’s talking about Rebekah. Maybe Sofia is Stefan’s weakness.

“You’re wrong.” He can be sentimental if the occasion calls for it. And if it helps Stefan understand his sister better, how can he not offer his own advice? “All she needs to be happy is to see you and your brother happy.”

“Damon?” Stefan snickers. “He’s not—” Stefan shakes his head, but refrains from tearing down his brother. He thinks he does that for Sofia, rather than his own sake. Stefan’s hand lands on his shoulder. “ _You_ are more of a brother to me than Damon,” he says.

He doesn’t take the discussion any further because he can’t bring himself to ruin the moment. Stefan’s a true friend, _a_ _brother_ , and what’s more important than family?

 

#

 

“To friendship,” he toasts. Stefan hesitates, at first, but still raises his glass and drinks with him.

“So I’m confused,” Stefan says. “If we were such great friends, then why do I only know you as the hybrid _dick_ who sacrificed my girlfriend on an altar of fire?”

It doesn’t take him long to answer. “All good things must come to an end.”

 

#

 

“Do you think they’re in love?” Sofia whispers, sitting pliant against him in their usual booth. He smiles, watching Rebekah and Stefan dance in the middle of the room. He wonders why this question keeps coming up; Rebekah might believe she’s in love, but it’ll never last; Stefan doesn’t love his sister, but the idea of her, the danger and excitement she carries with her. And him and Sofia, he thinks they’re closer than Rebekah and Stefan, but not in love.

“What do you think?” he asks.

Sofia thinks it through, pursing her blood red lips while she does. “I think my brother lost his heart to love once, and he became this,” she answers. Sofia knows her brother better than Stefan knows her. But then from what he understands she’s always been on the outside looking in. “I’m not sure he’s capable when he’s like this.”

“Like what?” he asks, but he knows what she means. The ripper, the monster, the guiltless creature that enjoys the kill, but it’s something he’s come to appreciate about Stefan. If anything because Stefan has reminded him of what it’s like to be a predator, superior to his prey.

“Then again,” Sofia amends. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him smile like this.”

Every time he thinks Sofia has surprised him for the last time she does something like this, looks at Stefan with such utter love and devotion that he wonders if she’d ever allow love _to be_ a weakness. It’s a family thing, something he shared a long time ago, but after his family became vampires something changed in them. He loves his sister, and Rebekah loves him, but they’ve forgiven each other for things that no siblings should ever have to.

His thoughts are disrupted suddenly; he feels it before Rebekah does, rippling through the room. They’re not alone.

“What’s wrong?” Sofia asks, no doubt having felt him tense up. Her own vampire senses pick it up then too, the boots drumming on the floor. “It’s only a raid,” she says, a hand on his chest meant to calm him.

“Chicago police!” someone at the door shouts.

“No, it isn’t,” he says, and finishes his drink in one big gulp. He takes Sofia by the hand and drags her with him. “Rebekah!” he shouts, wooden bullets flying across the room. “Come on, we’ve gotta go, sweetheart!”

“What the hell is going on?” Stefan shouts.

He pulls Rebekah away from Stefan, and pushes Sofia towards her brother.

“Stefan!” Rebekah calls out.

“Go!” he shouts at his sister. Rebekah runs for the exit, but he stays put, turning to Stefan and Sofia. Stefan’s face reads nothing but confusion, he has no idea what’s going on. It’s remarkable how Sofia remains calm throughout. She knew this day would come. “Stefan, Sofia, I’m sorry, but the fun has to end here.”

Stefan shakes his head. “What are you talking about?”

One of his hands lands on Stefan’s shoulder. He doesn’t want to do this, but he has to. “You must forget Rebekah and I,” he says, compelling Stefan to forget. “Until I say otherwise you never knew us, Stefan. Thank you, I had forgotten what it was like to have a brother.”

 

#

 

“You compelled me to forget,” Stefan says.

“It was time for Rebekah and I to move on.” He stares out in front of him. “Better to have a clean slate.” He just never could have guessed Rebekah would choose to stay with Stefan and leave him. He’d never underestimated Rebekah’s ability to love, and he’d never take it away from her, but he couldn’t risk Mikael finding her. He’d rather have her hate him forever. So he’d killed his own sister.

“And Sofia?” Stefan asks. “She forgot too?”

He remembers them well, his and Sofia’s parting words.

“Yes,” he lies.

It’s better for Stefan to believe his sister later disappeared because of his friend Lexi, rather than some useless pursuit to find him again. Except he knows that’s not true, he never heard from her again after Chicago. He’s not sure he wants to.

“But why?” Stefan asks, a different tone to his voice now, one that comes eerily close to obsession. Is that what he’s looking for, he wonders, a way out of his servitude? “You shouldn’t have to cover your tracks.” Stefan moves closer to him. “Unless you’re running from someone.”

He’s been running for such a long time.

“Story time’s over,” he says solemnly, taking another sip from his beer.

Stefan sighs. “I need another drink. A real one.”

He doesn’t stop Stefan from going.

 

#

 

He wants to disappear inside of her, sink his fangs into her skin and drink her warmth. But he knows he can’t; drinking other vampires is Mikael’s thing, and it would take away her strength. So he settles for this, share the hunt with her, stalk their prey together, down in an alley right next to the club. Sofia’s arms are around his neck, his breath ghosting over her neck.

“Someone help me!” she screams, and a rush of excitement courses through him. It’s been so long since he’s felt it. “Help me, please!” Sofia shouts for anyone to hear.

And sure enough, her screams are heard. He doesn’t move, just keeps her pressed tight between his body and the hard brick wall, waiting for their prey to come closer, walk into the trap. “Hey, pal!” a male voice calls out, but another pair of feet follow in his wake. He feels someone grabbing his arm. “Back off,” a man says, his female companion not far behind.

“Are you okay?” the woman asks Sofia, putting a comforting arm around her shoulder.

Sofia fakes distress. “I thought he was going to kill me.”

 _His turn_.

The bloodlust overtakes him, his eyes grow dark, his hunger pulsing inside him like a beacon. Sofia was right. _Stefan_ was right. This does make him feel alive. He grabs his victim by the collar and bites down, fresh hot blood touching his tongue. Yes, this makes him feel alive.

“Derek!” the blonde calls out to her partner, but before she can scream Sofia has her pushed up against the wall.

“ _Don’t scream_ ,” Sofia orders, using her compulsion, putting the fear of God in her prey, but giving her no expression for it.

“He’s killing him,” the woman whispers, but fails to find her voice. “Oh my God, he’s killing him!” she says more strongly, tears running down her cheeks.

Sofia looks at her, her eyes growing dark. “Would you like to join him?” she asks. The woman’s mouth opens, eyes going wide in terror, but all she manages to utter is a silent roar. Sofia bares her fangs, and attacks the blonde’s throat.

They both savor the kill, taking longer, drinking slower than they need to until they both had their fill. The couple falls to the floor, both dead.

He looks at Sofia, blood running down her chin, her eyes still pitch-black. “Your brother was right about you,” he says. Stefan might be an artist, but Sofia has her fine assortment of tricks, her games, and she’s had a whole lot of practice.  

She doesn’t say a word, but when her eyes turn green once again she smiles, that same devious smile, just for him. Such a beautiful creature, feeling everything her brother doesn’t; guilt, pain, and every other emotion that follows a mindless kill. But she stands there in front of him, knowing what she is, and completely satisfied in her existence.

He walks over to her and crashes his mouth to hers, blood still fresh on her lips.

 

#

 

When the other Salvatore settles down next to him at the bar he wonders if this is the spirits’ ways of telling him there’s a whole other world of hurt yet to come his way. Lucky for him he knows how to handle Damon Salvatore.

“I see they’ve opened the doors to the riffraff now,” he says.

“Oh, honey, I’ve been called worse,” Damon answers.

He laughs to himself. With just those few words Damon sounds more like Sofia than Stefan ever has. Maybe she takes after both her brothers. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“Give me my brother back and you’ll never have to see me again.”

“I am torn,” he says. “You see, I promised Stefan I wouldn’t let you die, but how many freebies did I really sign up for?” he asks, having entirely too much fun thinking up some of the ways to kill Damon. There’s the classic where he just rips out Damon’s heart, but that doesn’t sound very poetic at this point. “And clearly you want to die, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

“What can I say?” Damon shrugs. “I’m a thrill seeker.”

His fingers close around Damon’s throat before the younger vampire has a chance to react—the bar is empty so he can have his way with Damon and not even Stefan would have to know. It’s not a good night to be on his bad side. He snatches the little cocktail umbrella he’d been fiddling with from the bar.

“I’m a little boozy,” he says, “so you’ll forgive me if I miss your heart the first few times.” He jabs the toothpick end in Damon’s chest. “No, that’s not it.” Damon groans in pain. He stabs again. “Almost.”

“You want a partner in crime?” Damon manages to choke out. “Forget Stefan. I am so much more fun.”

He’s never had much care for Damon Salvatore. For all his charm and charisma he wasn’t like Stefan, not a real ripper. A thrill seeker, yes, but not an artist. He drops Damon down to the floor. “You won’t be any fun after you’re dead.” He smashes one of the bar’s wooden chairs, and grabs one of its legs to use as a stake. But before he manages to drive it through Damon’s heart, the stake catches fire in his hand.

“Really?” he asks, and turns to face Gloria. Always spoiling his fun.

“Not in my bar,” she says, and points him to the exit. “You take it outside.”

Damon tries to scramble up from the floor, but he pushes him back down. “You don’t have to negotiate your brother’s freedom,” he says, deliberately avoiding any mention of Sofia. If there’s anyone who might be able to get through to Stefan at this point, or beyond this point, it might be the Salvatores’ baby sister. “When I’m done with him, he won’t want to go back.”

He staggers a step back, head spinning from the alcohol. Being back in this bar isn’t the experience he’d hoped it would be. Sure, any moment now he’ll return Stefan’s memories, a present to Rebekah, but his own memories of Sofia—he wishes like hell they could be removed.

He halts in the doorway when he catches Gloria’s last words to Damon: “You can thank your sister for that,” Gloria says, and somehow he can’t help but smile to himself. It’s quite unexpected, he’s hardly one for petty sentiment, but knowing she’s watching now, however much in the periphery, could prove to be a whole lot of fun.

This just became a whole different sort of game.

 

#

 

He turns to Sofia last, because he wants to put it off. He doesn’t want to run again, he doesn’t want to _keep_ running. But he knows he has to. It’s strange, he’s never had trouble saying goodbye before. “Sofia—” he starts.

“Don’t,” she breathes, cutting him off, one hand clutching at her brother’s arm, but Stefan is too dazed to take notice of either of them.

He knows what the word implies, _don’t_ , asking him not to say goodbye or take her memories of him. But why should he spare Sofia when he begs the same things of his sister? To cut all ties, to run whenever Mikael comes close, leave behind everyone and everything they’d grown attached to. He’ll leave Sofia behind, there’s no doubt about that, and he should take her memories as well.

He really should.

She doesn’t love him, Sofia knew what she was getting into and she’d made herself no illusion about what they were. But what she’s asking now, to trust her, when she knows it’s not in his character – how _can_ she ask this? He knows the one word implies more about her feelings for him than his feelings for her, but his own answer repays her in kind.

“You can’t—” he starts, but stops himself. He can’t say it, he _shouldn’t_ say it, because that might be giving her too much hope for something he will never give her.

Sofia shakes her head. “Not a word,” she says. “Not ever.”

 

#

 

It’s only now, some ninety years later that he realizes he was right to trust her. Stefan never knew a thing, Mikael never found him, and he never saw her again. It’s not in his nature, to trust so easily. Maybe Sofia had been a lapse in his judgment after all.

“All good things must come to an end,” he mutters to himself, and decides to go see what’s keeping Rebekah.

 

#

**(two days earlier)**

She doesn’t want to be here. This place holds so many memories, most of them happy, delirious or drunk ones, but remembering the second happiest time in her life only sets the unhappy ones in stark contrast. There’s only one painful memory here. But it’s the single memory she feels the sharpest. _Don’t_ , she’d said, right here, but _then_. Why had she even asked? Why had Nik granted her the request? It would’ve been better if she’d forgotten.

“Well, look at you,” a voice sounds from behind the bar. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

Sofia knows she doesn’t look the same, how can she after all these years? And Gloria, well, she’s changed even more. “Gloria.” She nods, making her way over to the bar. “I see you’re still around.” She’s not sure why she’s surprised; Nik always had the tendency to surround himself with powerful people.

“Drink?” Gloria asks when Sofia sits herself down behind the bar.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

“So what can I do for you?” Gloria asks. Sofia looks up at her. “You didn’t come by just to say hello.”

She smiles, taking a sip from her drink. “I have it on good authority that my brother’s on his way here,” she says. “Try to keep him alive?” She hates to ask this of Gloria or anyone else, but truth is she doesn’t want to see either of her brothers, or Nik. It’s been too long and any explanation now would only lead to more questions.

“Do I look like a charity auction?” Gloria deadpans. “Honey, you’re a vampire. I don’t answer to anyone but me.”

She chuckles; she can’t count the amount of witches she’s met that haven’t somehow been employed by a vampire. Most of them were hypocrites too. “Say that again when Nik shows up.”

“Klaus?”

Right, Sofia thinks, he goes by another name now. “His hybrids failed,” she explains. “He wants answers.”

For a witch as powerful and old as Gloria, she doesn’t manage to hide the little quiver of fear that runs through her. But she’s impressed she even tries.

“Your brother is still running in the wrong circles then.”

“Yup,” Sofia says, and gets up. She’s better at hiding it, but inside she’s screaming. Ever since she found out the doppelganger actually existed, that both her brothers had forged a bond with her, and that Nik’s curse had been broken, she’d been struck with a sentiment entirely unfamiliar to her. She was worried, about both her brothers. “But it’s not Stefan I’m worried about.”

Stefan’s safe as long as he’s with Nik, and she suspects that once Nik makes it to Chicago, Stefan will be retrieving his memories as well. She hopes to God he can forgive her for lying to him. But that’s only if they see each other again.

“Now Damon I could stand to save,” Gloria says, perhaps in an attempt to lighten the mood.

She smiles. Damon was always the one with the charm, good days or bad days, he knew how to get things from other people. “Thanks for the drink,” she says, throws a money note on top of the bar, and turns to walk away.

“Sofia,” Gloria calls out.

She turns on her heels.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Gloria says.

She nods to herself solemnly. She considered not coming, she’d thought about flipping the switch on her humanity altogether, but that would leave her a lesser person. No, she has to see this through. No matter what the cost. “So do I,” she says.

But she’s not sure it’s such a good position to be in: between her brothers and the only man she ever truly loved. 

 

 

 

\- FIN -


End file.
